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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27863266">Dream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackShadow15/pseuds/blackShadow15'>blackShadow15</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Torchwood Files [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Torchwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, Dreams, Episode Related, Episode: Audio Drama: The Dead Line, Episode: Big Finish: Episode 11 Broken, Established Relationship, Feels, Hurt, Ianto's mind, Jack's immortality, Late night thoughts, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Memories, Mention of Canonical Character Death, Mentions of suicidal attempts, Nightmares, Relationship Study, i'm coping, this is kinda sad, this is me coping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:48:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27863266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackShadow15/pseuds/blackShadow15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto turned around in Jack’s arms just to look at him. Breath slow and steady, face calm and with that little smile Jack only had in his sleep. Ianto reached out, touched the corner of Jack’s mouth and wondered. Wondered what made Jack smile in his sleep.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Lisa Hallett/Ianto Jones - mentioned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Torchwood Files [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Ianto awoke he did not know what exactly woke him up. He lay still and stared into the dark until he could make out the outlines of the room again. If he had dreamed he did not remember. And he was thankful for that. Most of the time his dreams were more than unpleasant. There were good moments too, but most of his dreams were still filled with pain and agony. And death, so much death. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It started with that day. The slaughterhouse. The little glimpse of hope every time he saw Lisa. Hope that was at risk of being crushed by all the guilt and pain. And all those memories that filled every single moment. Helping Lisa, trying to heal Lisa, the chance of getting her back, gave him some meaning, a lifeline. Helped him push away the past for just a moment. But when night and sleep came to him, his dreams were full of memories again. The horrors he had seen, the pain he had heard, and how he had felt. So helpless and scared. They haunted him while he shakely brewed his coffee. They followed him to work where nobody had an idea. They accompanied him down into the lower levels, where Lisa had been. His little glimpse of hope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Canary Wharf had faded away the moment Lisa died. And at that point he actually wished it back. There was no glimpse of hope left after the dreams that replaced it. No life. Just emptiness. The memories replayed in those dreams were not all bad. That was the cruel part. Even when he dreamed about their life together before that day - Their dates; their work - all of them always ended down in the HUB. Always ended with Lisa dying. Always ended with Jack shooting her. These dreams were filled with nothing but guilt and anger. Anger that shook Ianto awake every morning, breathless, hands trembling and ready to just <em>do something</em>. But the anger deflated over a shower; faded behind the suit; and once he reached work he was nothing more than a hollow shell. Smiling, working, but not feeling anything at all. Day after day after day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until the field trip. Those nightmares were solely about himself. Fear and dread creeping into his bones everytime he closed his eyes. The smell of blood filled his nose, omnipresent. He washed his sheets more times than he could count and kept the lights on when he went to bed. But it did not help. He still saw them lurking in the shadows of his own apartment. Still smelt the blood. All that blood. He could feel the blade at his throat the moment he closed his eyes, saw all that meat again. Ianto was not sure he even slept; if he was dreaming or remembering until his stomach rebelled and he vomited out what little he had eaten. He thought about killing himself more than once. But even without Mandy, he knew he did not have the strength to do something like that. So he hoped it would go away, and feared it at the same time. Because from experience his dreams tended to only get worse. And he did not know what could be worse than the hell he had been through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then Owen shot Jack, right through the head, dead in a blink of an eye and Ianto’s whole world stopped again. They were, of course, in a dire situation, so he acted and reacted as he should, but his blood was pumping in his ears and all he could think was: <em>Not again, please. Oh God, please no.</em> But Jack came back. Alive. Jumped right back to his feet, ready to clear up the mess <em>they</em> made. Like a knight in shining armour or a hero or something along those lines, that he had no right to be, should not need to be. Something Ianto did not want him to be, because all Ianto needed was for Jack to be alive. And hopefully close by his side. But Jack was Jack, and so he strove into battle, all proud and confident. Only to die again. Life sucked right out of him, for minutes, horrible minutes, until there was nothing left. And Ianto did not know how to feel anymore. The emotions were clogging up his throat, with something he had not allowed himself to feel ever since Lisa. He dreaded the nights that were about to come, because he did not want to live through all of this again. Did not want to see Jack die again. Unable to do anything at all. But his sleep was blissfully black for weeks. The dreams only started when Jack came back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And those were the pure torture. Because unlike all the others before, those were no memories. Those were solely made up by his own mind. Trademark Ianto Jones. His mind had learned from all the cruelty, had twisted the memories, shaped them into something not new but altered and in the end presented him with sheer endless possibilities. Made him see Jack die over and over again. Everytime different. Everytime fatal. A fall from a rooftop, a shot from a gun, ripped to pieces by a weevil or slowly withering away from an alien virus. Dying, perished, murdered. Until he did not come back again and Ianto was left alone, sitting beside his lifeless form with his blood all over his hands. Those dreams had not left him since.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jack shifted behind him, breathing out a warm huff of air into Ianto’s neck. It helped Ianto to calm himself. Dreams or not, having the reminder of the warm, living body beside him always grounded him. To know Jack was still there, still with him, took at least some of his fears away. Ianto turned around in Jack’s arms just to look at him. Breath slow and steady, face calm and with that little smile Jack only had in his sleep. Ianto reached out, touched the corner of Jack’s mouth and wondered. Wondered what made Jack smile in his sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was not that Jack did not have nightmares. Ianto sat with him though enough of them to know how brutal sleep could be to his lover. But when Ianto awoke at night next to Jack in this bed, that should be far too small for two grown men, most of the time, he found him smiling. And that sight was reassuring, but it also made him think. Imagine. Jack had seen so many things, lived so many lives, met - lost so many people. And still he dreamed and smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘What are you dreaming of, Jack?’ Ianto whispered barely audible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He traced the lines of Jack’s face with his fingertips. And for a while just watched the other man sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Jack had pleasant memories of his past. Maybe he dreamed of the places, the planets he had seen. Places he talked about with big gestures and shining eyes. Places that Ianto could not even imagen. Places Jack dumped for earth… Cardiff. For busy streets and endless rain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Jack dreamed about the people he had met there. People that he called friends. People he loved. People he had left behind. People that spent their life with him or merely got a glance. Jack must have made so many different acquaintances. Lived through so many things. Had so many stories to tell. And it still seemed like it was not enough. How could it be? There were so many worlds out there Ianto never even dreamed of. Not one day at Torchwood One had made him actually want to leave earth. He was fascinated, of course, but everything still seemed so far away, so unreal. He always had been happy just to get a glimpse. But with Jack… Everything seemed closer. Like something you could reach. Not that that would be possible in the end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ianto swallowed dry. His fingers had started to comb through Jack’s hair in a rhythm that made Jake subconsciously lean into the touch. He could not help the way he felt happy and sad at the same time in every moment he was with Jack, moments that the chaos of their daily life slowed down and Ianto was able to think, to wonder, to imagen. It was not always a good thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack had vanished before for three whole months and still none of them knew what exactly had happened. Ianto knew that something changed. There was something that Jack did not tell them, could not tell them or deemed necessary to keep a secret. But when Jack came back - right when Ianto thought he might not, might have left for good - he was different. He made more of an effort, kept them closer, looked at them in this special way sometimes, that made Ianto feel as if Jack actually feared losing all of them. He looked at Ianto like this a lot of times. Ianto was not sure if Jack was aware of it himself, was aware how it made Ianto hope for something that would not hold. Because he also saw the way John Hart looked at Jack. Like he still was his world, even though Jack had left him behind ages ago. And god forbid John was a psychopath, had endangered them all, had killed Jack. But still… that look. The things Jack was to the people he left behind… It made Ianto never want to meet any of them, or meet all of them. Just to know more about Jack, learn about all those secrets he had hidden away. Like John Hart… or… well...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was that Doctor of Jack’s. And all the adventures that came with him. Time travel in a blue box. Even after all that time with Torchwood; even with the Rift so close, it still sounded more like a legend. A tale kept alive throughout all of time and space, to give people something to hold on to. Jack had touched that legend; had been part of that legend; and had given it up. For them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack’s grip around his hip tightened, pulling Ianto closer to his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Are you dreaming ‘bout me?’ Ianto breathed. Because even if it was just a futile wish, part of him wanted to believe that he was the reason Jack was smiling in his sleep. That he dreamed of Ianto and that it made him happy. That Jack needed him in his life as much as Ianto needed Jack. That he was not dreaming about the future after them - after Torchwood, the team, Ianto - but about the here and now, where he had Ianto in his arms, and a life to share. It was foolish really.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ianto took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Jack’s smell was filling all his senses, strong and comforting. As long as he had this - Jack’s presence, his smell, his touch - he could forget his worries just for a moment and believe that Jack would be his, would stay by his side, even on the off chance that he actually would become grey and old.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ianto snuggled closer to him, one hand on his chest, right where he could feel the heartbeat, slow and steady. And as that rhythm lulled him back to sleep, he actually, to some extent, felt lucky. Because even if Jack smiled because he dreamed about leaving, he had not yet. He was still here. Right beside him. And that was enough for the moment and more than Ianto could ever hope for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last thing Ianto remembered before falling asleep again, was a hand that buried itself in his hair and the smell of Jack’s pheromones wrapping around him like a warm, familiar blanket.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I have tried to write something for TW for years now (like 10 years, I don’t know. Since I first saw the series I guess) and well maybe changing all my writing into English is what did the trick here, but it finally worked and I’m proud of it.<br/>Also slowly getting through all the Audio stuff I have not listened to yet, and it triggers some feels that I have to deal with. So I hope there will be more. And I hope you liked it enough to consider coming back for that, too. If I ever get to finish another one. ^-^</p>
<p>As always thanks to Fionir for beta-reading this.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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